


High Ambition

by whoreforwomen



Category: Sex Education (TV), The Fall (TV 2013)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:54:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23380522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoreforwomen/pseuds/whoreforwomen
Summary: AU where Stella Gibson and Jean Milburn are university roommates and they get high together.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	High Ambition

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday Molly can't wait to get high with you <3

“Bad day?” Jean asked from the shadows and Stella jumped. She had just gotten back to their shared room, kicking her heels off her bleeding feet unceremoniously. Knockoff Louboutins trying to make up for the inches her genes failed to provide her with to pass as an adult woman. 

“Oh sorry, thought you were going to be out” she had barely seen the girl in the room ever since moving in a month ago. She either came in really late at night or not at all. All Stella really knew about her was that she was doing her master's in psychology and she kept her side of the room clean, which really was all she cared to know about. Stella switched on the purple lava lamp Jean had given her as a welcoming we’re-forced-to-share-a-room-so-let’s-be-amicable present and surveyed the small space with efficiency despite the whole pitcher she had drunk, sloshing uncomfortably in her empty stomach. 

“So?” Jean asked again from where she was laying on her bed upside down. “So what?” she inquired, not in the mood to make idle chit chat this late at night. “Bad day?” Jean repeated unphased by her sour mood and Stella took a seat at her respective small bed to keep her head from spinning. “I’ve had worse” she admitted and Jean smiled at her genuinely, which threw her off. Desperate to take the focus off her she racked her brain for the name of her boyfriend, “so no, uhm, Will today?” she took a guess and Jean sat up.

“Alex. And he's not my boyfriend. Me time.” Jean shrugged and her blondish hair fell forward. “Besides, he’s scared to come in here now.” This time it was Stella’s turn to shrug, her palm stinging anew just remembering the way it had collided with the guy’s cheek making his entire head turn on its own axis like an owl. She had been sorting out her dirty clothes to go do laundry, her basket holding the room’s door open when in walked Will while she was turned away and bent over to gather a sock that had escaped. The idiot had slapped her pajama-clad asscheek so hard she had felt it all the way to her clit, thinking she was Jean. She hadn’t even hesitated before returning the gesture and the guy’s mortified face at the realization she had the wrong girl almost made up for it. 

“He should get his eyes checked. We don’t even look alike.” 

“Yes, we do. Along with the rest of Britain.” Jean deadpanned and Stella scoffed. Way to make a girl feel special. Jean stood up then, her flimsy robe doing little to obscure the nighty underneath while she threw on a heavy winter coat over her shoulders. “Come on, let’s go.” 

“Where?” the mere thought of putting the heels back on was painful but Jean kicked some ballet flats she had lying by the door in her direction. “Don’t worry we won’t leave the building.” Begrudgingly she put the flats on and swapped her suit jacket for a wool wrap than swallowed her small frame, before following Jean out of their room. Three flights of stairs and various encounters with drunk students later Jean paused in front of a fire escape and surreptitiously checked the hallway before pushing the white door wide open despite the various warning labels against it. “Don’t worry, I do this all the time” she assured her and bent down to retrieve a small piece of wood that she wedged between the door so it wouldn’t lock behind them.

Jean tugged at her sleeve and the both of them sat against the slanted roof that overlooked a big portion of the campus but was high enough to muffle the obnoxious beat of whatever rave party took place underneath. Stella took a deep breath and let it out slowly, the cold air heavy with the promise of rain sometime in the wee hours of the morning. “It’s nice” she allowed and Jean smirked. “It’s about to get a whole lot nicer.” She reached deep into her coat pocket and produced three tightly wrapped spliffs and a lighter with a puppy on it. 

Stella hadn’t smoked since her first year in sixth form and the weight of the joint between her lips manifested park benches and wet alleys out of her memory in vivid technicolor. Jean cupped her palm around the weak flame and Stella took the first drag which went down the wrong windpipe causing her to cough up a storm. She cursed as soon as she could breathe and sent out a silent thank you to the woman beside her for not making any comments about her undignified reaction. Jean just took a drag from hers and brought a cold thumb to Stella’s face to wipe away a stray tear that had escaped her watering eyes. The gesture was so mundanely small, but it had been long since Stella had been touched with no agenda and the feel of it lingered on her cheek long after Jean had retrieved her hand; phantom pain in reverse.

They smoked in silence for a bit, the amber ends of their cigarettes intensifying and dimming in color with each inhale, like brake lights in traffic jams at night. She let the smoke fill her lungs and her empty stomach sped up the process of intoxication. “My thesis advisor tried to fuck me” she heard the words coming out of her lips without her permission and this time it was Jean’s turn to cough. “Did you want him to?” 

Stella turned to look at her, taken aback by the response, the lack of worry and instant victimization. She didn’t ask her if she was okay, and that was all she needed to give her an honest response, “yes”. 

“And did you?” 

“No. I’ll have to request another one now which is too bad, he was the best in the field.”

“Remind me what do you do?”

“Criminology,” she said and waited for the usual response that fact about her elicited from people, mostly men, who had seen one too many episodes of 'Prime Suspect' and thought they knew how the system worked. It never came, however, since Jean’s answer wielded an even bigger response. “Sex and Relations Therapy” she pointed at her chest and Stella bit. 

“Really” her eyebrows rose to her hairline, “thought you were doing Psychology.”

“I did, you can find proof of it framed on my mum’s fireplace mantel. I wanted to do something different next, so…”

“Sex?” Stella supplied and Jean put out the finished spliff, starting on a second. “Are you offering?” she asked and Stella found herself laughing out loud, the muscles of her jaw straining against the novelty of it. “So how are you liking it so far?” 

“Learned the correct way to get laid” Jean tilted her head back and exhaled like a steamboat.

“And what’s that?” 

“You lay on bed, wait two hours and lay becomes past tense.”

They looked at each other for a second and then and burst out laughing simultaneously at the horrendous pun and something shifted inside her, warming the cavity in her ribcage, like bringing a mattress to an empty apartment; it was still unlivable but the foundations were there.

“I used to date an English teacher, but she dumped me for inappropriate use of the colon.” Jean piped up again beaming at her and Stella couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her vocal cords. “That was literally the worst pun I’ve ever heard,” she said for the sake of saying it but her body was still spasming with the aftershock of laughter, giving no fucks about her integrity. “Wait, you haven’t heard my best one yet.” Jean protested defensively and Stella took the joint from her taking a deep drag, desperately trying to prolong whatever she was feeling at the moment. “Do I even want to?”

Jean cocked her head to the side and Stella could see where her naturally brown hair met questionable blonde box dye. “I think we both know that you do” she pointed out and Stella tried really hard not to read anything into it because it felt good to have a friend and she didn’t want to screw it up just to test a long-standing curiosity of hers. She took another hit and let it burn her throat, singing out her inappropriate thoughts, stomping on them for good measure. “Do your worst.”

“What did Cinderella say when she got to the ball?”

“What?” Stella played along and instantly regretted it because Jean started making choking sounds while her pink tongue came out to slurp at an imaginary pair of balls and the sight was so ridiculous and she so high and turned on and despite what many thought, only human, so she leaned in and captured Jean’s tongue between her lips and sucked on it for five horrible seconds while Jean did nothing in response. Stella was already crafting her inevitable apology when she felt the other woman move against her lips and all of a sudden she was kissing her back and it was messy and their lips were chapped from the cold and the weed but she didn’t care because Jean was so hot and pliant against her and, and every time they parted to breathe her mouth stayed open extending the invitation and Stella took her up on it again and again until she couldn't tell where one of them started and the other finished. “Gosh, I’m going to start telling that joke more often” Jean leaned her forehead against Stella’s and she snorted in between pants, unable to catch her breath. “Please don’t.” 

“Worked on you, didn’t it?” Jean challenged and if anything, Stella never backed out of one so she urgently stood up on wobbly legs, knees weak from THC and a promising Psychosexual therapist in equal measures. “Let’s find out” she extended her hand and Jean took it instantly, the two of them comically sprinting down the stairs holding on to each other for balance and by some miracle they made it to their room. Jean locked the door behind them and it was all the encouragement Stella needed to press her against it. They kissed again and all the tameness of before was left in the roof because Jean was giving as good as she was getting and Stella knew then it wasn't her first rodeo. She also knew they were about to ruin everything, knew one of them would put in a request to move to another room, knew she was unable to make friends without fucking them and yet she pressed Jean’s small body against the university’s laminated fire-emergency instructions stuck to the door.

Stella had set more proverbial fires in her twenty-two years of life than she had intended to, and this time she was too slow to step away from it, letting the flames lick at her feet- being the accused witch and her own accuser at the same breath. Goody Proctor had nothing on her.

She let the wrap fall from her shoulders and took off Jean’s coat with clumsy hands before bringing her lips to the woman’s neck leaving a wet trail down to her collarbone. Jean let out a throaty moan and Stella shivered at the thought she was the one causing it this time. As if reading her thoughts, Jean pivoted their tangled bodies and pushed Stella down her small bed that smelled like her detergent. “I saw you, you know.” She climbed over her and Stella froze, looking up at her helplessly, her whole body flushing anew. She knew exactly what Jean was talking about and mortification paralyzed her body before it morphed into desire at the implication of her words.

It had been two weeks since Jean and whatever his name was had sneaked into the room at three in the morning, thinking Stella was asleep. At first, she had paid no attention to them, often finding that bloke sprawled out Jean’s bed in the morning, but that night was different. The creaking bedframe was the first giveaway and even curled up under the covers Stella could not miss the sound of naked skin rubbing on skin. She ought to have been disgusted, mad even that they would do that with her in the room but as Jean’s breath became heavier across the dorm, she found her hand traveling south and dipping into her own wetness in response. With every creak and moan, she circled her clit and the mere thought of what she was doing had her heartbeat thumping loudly at every pulsing point of her body. She had come with a staccato breath while Jean came far more audibly with a whispered cursed that sounded like a scream in the still of the night. 

“I saw your hand moving under the covers and put on a little show for you,” Jean said now and leaned down to kiss her clavicle. “I didn’t even come that night, Alex was too drunk, but I couldn’t leave you hanging, could I?”. Stella’s head was spinning at the very thought of that and closed her eyes to collect herself. Jean’s bracelets made dry sounds against each other as her wrist moved practically over Stella's body removing her clothing, unfolding her in surreptitious silence like a child on Christmas Eve, too excited to wait for the morning. “Take off your panties” she instructed and Stella shoved them down ungracefully until they got caught on her watch. Jean saw it because the lava lamp was still casting an artificial hue on them and laughed. Stella joined in because if they both knew one thing was that sex could be funny and incredibly ridiculous and that’s the way it should be.

Once they were off, her tight skirt followed and her knees fell open to the sides creating a diamond shape with her soles pressed together. Her thighs were glistening and she rejoiced in the knowledge a woman could do that to her, a door unlocking to endless possibilities. She ran her hand up Jean’s leg and under her nightgown and was met with nothing on her hipbone but smooth skin. “We never stood a chance at being friends did we?” she asked and Jean shook her head with the gravity of a surgeon delivering bad news to the waiting relatives. “I know what I want” she shrugged and Stella nodded once, defeated over the loss of a friend, and once more purposefully because there was a commando sex therapist to-be stranding her stomach and opportunities like these didn’t come knocking twice.

She flipped them over with butterfly- strengthened biceps and Jean laughed at the powerplay being transferred back and forth like a baton. She didn’t have to worry with her and it was a surprising relief. She was so soft everywhere she touched her and the sounds her hands wielded from her, raw and honest mingling with her heartbeat pumping blood between her legs. “Touch me like you touch yourself” Jean instructed and Stella was but a mere student in this scenario so she did, starting with her perky breasts, caressing them with her fingers first and then her mouth, while Jean’s hands made quick work over Stella’s wet bundle of nerves.

“Did you know the glans in the clitoris contain around eight thousand nerve endings?” Jean breathed into her mouth when Stella bent to kiss her and she let out a strained laugh because she was currently teasing every single one of them with persistent fingers. “Is this your idea of dirty talk?” she teased and Jean slid two fingers inside her in retaliation.   
“Yes, is it working?” she asked rhetorically knowing damn well it did because Stella had now taken to gyrate her hips around the woman’s wrist in a frenzied state. 

“This isn’t working for me, get off” Jean whined right when Stella had found a good spot to grind against and it took her a second to realize what Jean had said stopping dead in her tracks because, surely she had misheard. “You should have seen your face” Jean snickered and pushed her off like she weighed nothing. “I meant the position, relax.” 

Stella did not appreciate games in any setting and especially right when she was about to come like she never had before, but she also realized she was being selfish and at the end of the day she did desperately want to fuck her ten ways to Sunday. She let Jean position their naked bodies to her liking, and found herself spooning her from behind, two teaspoons from the same set dripping with water. The two women crossed their arms over each other, an intricate dance of pas-de-deux, and touched one another in perfect synchrony, equal amounts of give and take. 

“How am I doing Doc?” Stella bit down on Jean’s neck and decided to take the “hmmm” vibrating off her as praise to keep going. They didn’t come together like the women in a horrid Harlequin novel she had once read for a class did, but Jean made sure to take care of her once she had ridden out her own orgasm. Sweaty and lithe, Jean had slithered her way between Stella's legs and helped her to the finish line with the stroke of her velvet tongue and the lewd sounds her body made under her calculated ministrations. 

Once they were done, Jean reached in her nightstand's drawer and produced yet another spliff that they shared, along with the promise to never do that again, which they kept until the next time one of them decided to get high.


End file.
